The Band Aid That Covered My Bullet Hole
by SherbieJ
Summary: "That's when she said I don't hate you boy, I just want to save you while there's still something left to save; That's when I told her I love you girl, but I'm not the answer for the questions that you still have..." -Savior, Rise Against. Summary inside.
1. Introduction

Brief Summary: Bella lives in a world of physical abuse, attemtping to shut off the world. Edward is a rebellious drug-addict. They both have good reason to hate each other, but another reason for something entirely different overpowers it all. Not every story has a happy ending. Will theirs?**

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**Hi, everyone. Here's my second FanFic story. Few things first:**

**1. Disclaimer: I do not own any of Stephenie Meyer's characters or plots. All rights belong to her.  
2. First chapter may be a little bit dragging, since I do get wordy when I try to start a story. Please put up with it and read on? (:  
3. Review, whether you like it or not. I would really appreciate it, even if it's a criticism. Also, any questions you have, feel free to ask!  
4. This is rated T, but there may be some profanities and graphic descriptions later on that some people might be bothered by (though I will try to limit it).**

**Alright, I'll let you get on with the story. Enjoy!**

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_**"First impressions are often the truest, as we find to our cost,  
when we have been wheedled out of them by plausible professions or studied actions.  
A man's look is the work of years;  
it is stamped on his countenance by the events of his whole life, nay, more,  
by the hand of nature, and it is not to be got rid of easily."**_

**- William Hazlitt**

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_[2005, June 26 | Phoenix, AZ]_

It was at this final point where I could not take it any longer.

I looked into his eyes, and they were beyond human sanity, frenzied with animalistic rage.

I wanted to fight back, and I knew that I should but there was no more strength left in me. I tried to think of the past few months, and the life I had in them with him. Why did it have to be this way?

The reason, the only one, that fed my fire for living slowly drifted away, the pain overtaking it. But the voice never left me; it became stronger, replacing the angry cries for the angelic voice that called my name.

Then through half-closed eyes, I saw both his hands outstretched—claws reaching for my throat... the final death grip....

_[2005, January 12 | Forks, WA]_

With each step came a quiet, staccato breath. Occasionally a faint gasp. And with that escaped the faint mist from my mouth.

The bitter wind stung my cheeks, the morning coldness mercifully numbing my body. I didn't feel my bag pressing into the tender skin of my shoulder, or the sensitive marks on my arms as I held myself tight together for any possible warmth.

Finally, around the corner, I could see my truck, almost waiting for me with wide open arms. I peeked over my shoulder once before I jogged up to it, ignoring the soreness of my legs.

As soon as I got the heat running, I started up the engine, and its roar made me flinch once more. Keeping both hands steady on the steering wheel, I found my way to the highway and traveled down the street in a moderate pace.

Eventually, I spotted the roof of Forks High up ahead, hidden in the clash of green around it. As the front building came into view, there was no anxiety or fear—no excitement or anticipation. Emotion had long escaped me, leaving behind a dull, lifeless soul inside.

I silently thanked God that I was able to leave the house early enough to avoid other students who also came to school early, and the guaranteed questions that would surely come with. In fact, I hoped to remain invisible for the rest of my junior and senior year here.

There were only about thirty cars or so in the parking lot, mostly staff. I briskly hastened towards the small front office building, eager for the warmth inside. But just before reaching the door, a black figure from my peripheral vision made me jump in surprise.

I turned my head to see, a few meters away, a pale-faced, reddish-brown haired boy dressed entirely in black—black jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt. He was standing with his back leaning against the side of another one of the school buildings, well-hidden in the dimness. He had one ankle crossed over the other and one hand shoved in his pocket. The other hand hung loosely by his side, and I thought I saw a wisp of gray smoke rising from it.

I scowled. Who knew that even a small school like this would have their own druggies? It was suddenly very clear to me that I could not avoid these people no matter where I went.

I looked away and opened the door, the sudden warmth wiping away the black expression on my face. I closed the door behind me and mechanically walked up to the small reception counter, where a large woman glanced up at me.

"You must be Isabella Swan," she said with an overfriendly grin.

I nodded once, a halfhearted smile fixed on my lips.

With that, the lady named Ms. Cope gathered papers from her scattered desk and handed them to me as she cheerfully explained what to do with them.

I went back outside, heading to my truck to look over the school map again—mainly wanting to use up the half hour I had before school started. Then before even realizing I was doing it, I found myself looking in the general direction of where I saw that boy dressed in black.

He was in the same spot as before, and in the same posture. The only difference was that his face was turned as if he was watching me.

With a shock—and slight embarrassment—I instantly whipped my head back down, walking faster towards the parking lot.

It was in my haste to hide that I lost focus on all of my surroundings except the truck that I was heading for. The next thing I knew, something hit my shoulder, hard, and I let out a sharp gasp.

"Whoa!"

I glanced up to see the boy who ran into me, a surprised look set on his face.

"Sorry, I wasn't paying attention to where I was going," he apologized.

"It's okay," I murmured, bending down to pick up the papers that I dropped. The boy helped me gather them, and looked at my new schedule. He then looked at me more closely, and a friendly smile spread across his face. "Hey, you're the new girl, Isabella."

"It's Bella, actually," I answered with another timid smile of my own.

"I'm Mike." He confidently held out his hand, and I awkwardly shook it. "We have English together for first class. We could walk there together." He grinned widely.

I frowned. "I thought class didn't start until seven-thirty."

"Yeah. But I thought maybe you'd want to meet some of my friends." The last part of his sentence sounded like a question.

I honestly didn't want to. I just wanted to get through my high school years quietly and inconspicuously. But Mike seemed very nice, and for the moment, I felt the need for company.

"Um, sure, I guess." I shrugged.

Mike seemed ecstatic at my reply, and led me in towards the school, chatting animatedly. I tried to look enthusiastic for him, nodding and smiling.

"Does your shoulder hurt a lot?" he suddenly asked me in concern.

I realized that I was absentmindedly rubbing the sore spot in my shoulder where I bumped into Mike.

"No, no, I'm fine," I told him, hoping he wouldn't ask any questions.

Thankfully, before he had a chance to ask me anything, we reached a table where Mike's friends were hanging out, and he named each of them as they pleasantly smiled at me.

I sat with Mike and his friends, occasionally answering their questions about Phoenix and my life back there. I tried to keep my face blank, blocking away the painful memories, and answered as simply as I could.

Finally, the first bell rang to send students to their first class, and Mike automatically walked by my side to building three, describing the teacher and the class assignments for me.

All throughout the day, everything was repetitive. Mike, and another boy named Eric, would help me find my classes, I would give the teacher my schedule to sign, and then I would sit in the back, trying to ignore the curious peeks that were pointed at me.

It wasn't until my sixth class after lunch—which I spent with the people I met today—in Biology.

Just as I did with my classes before, I went up the teacher and asked him to sign the slip of paper. He smiled and said, "Welcome to Forks High," and pointed out the only unoccupied lab table available, in the very back of the classroom.

I avoided my new classmates' looks as I kept my eyes on the ground. As soon as I got settled into my seat, Mr. Banner began his lecture on cell division.

I had already learned about the whole topic at my school back in Phoenix, so I daydreamed. I had my head down when a few minutes into the lecture, the door opened and Mr. Banner stopped talking.

"Thank you for honoring us with your presence, Mr. Cullen," he said with disapproval.

I raised my head and saw the boy with auburn hair walking towards me with his hands shoved in his pockets. For a moment, I was stunned. This morning, I was not able to see the features of his face very clearly because of the distance and the brevity of my glances.

Now, however, as he got closer, I received the full image of his face—the tight, square jaw, high and prominent cheekbones, and the sharp angle of his brow, causing his eyes to smolder deeply. But despite these details, I could not believe that someone with eyes so beautiful, almost bright, could do drugs of any kind. It was disorienting.

Then his eyes met mine, and I quickly looked away again, staring down at my hands. I felt my cheeks burn, and I couldn't explain to myself why.

He sat down at the empty stool right next to me, casually cleared his throat, and said, "Sorry, Mr. Banner."

With slight annoyance in his voice, the teacher continued on with his lesson.

The Cullen boy then shifted in his seat, leaning forward to rest his head on his hand. It was then that I caught a whiff of the strong smell lingering on him.

Whether it was from this morning, or the reason that he was late for this class, I could smell the traces of nicotine coming off of him. Maybe it could be the fact that I was only a few feet away from him, but I knew that I was much more sensitive to the stench of any drug than anyone else.

I peeked at his face again, trying not to move my head. At first look, he seemed bored out of his mind. But looking closer, I saw that the edges of the whites of his eyes were red, and he had purple shadows under them.

I looked back down at the desk in front of me, and I realized that certain feelings for him were starting to form—anger and irritation, though I knew I shouldn't feel that way, since I never even talked to the boy.

But I knew from my own experiences that I could judge a person by their choices; their own decisions on right and wrong.

I discreetly turned my face slightly away from him to save a headache from the smell as class dragged on and on.

The bell finally rang, and Mike walked up to my desk, waiting for me so that we could walk to Gym. I slung my bag over my shoulder, when the voice from behind spoke to me.

"So you're the new kid, right?"

I turned around, unsure of what expressions were playing across my face. I narrowed my eyes at the way he called me 'kid,' as if he thought he was superior to me.

"Isabella Swan," he dragged out, the corner of his lips lifted into half a smirk. His eyes did not show much of any interest; they seemed to stare down at me. He shoved his hand out towards me, presumptuous beyond belief. "Edward Cullen."

I reluctantly shook his hand once, trying my hardest to keep from grimacing, and breathing as little as possible.

"Nice to meet you," I muttered.

And then I turned to Mike and walked out of the classroom.

He kept up his line of small talk with me. "So how do you think you're going to do on tomorrow's lab?"

I struggled to concentrate. "We're doing a lab?"

"Yeah, Mr. Banner was talking about that for like, twenty minutes. We're supposed to identify all the different stages of cell division." He groaned.

Suddenly a thought caught up to me. "Do we have to do it with our lab partners?" I asked warily.

"Yep."

I sighed more sharply than I meant to, squeezing my eyes shut. "Great."

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**Thank you for putting up with the first chapter! Please, please leave a review and tell me what you thought. And feel free to ask any questions. Thank you!**


	2. Secrets

**Hi, everyone! I am so, _so_ sorry for making you wait so long for this chapter. But in my defense, I hope it's worth the wait (or at least almost worth it). Plus, I would like to thank the people who took the time to review. You guys are the best! So, hope you enjoy this chapter!**

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**_"Now comes the mystery."_**

** - Henry Ward Beecher -**

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After Gym, I drove home slowly, relieved that the first day of school was over with already. I had to admit to myself, it wasn't half as bad as I was expecting it to be. Mostly everyone I met seemed nice, I didn't get _too_ much attention, and it hasn't rained a single drop yet—a pretty great accomplishment from a town like Forks—though the clouds up ahead appeared to get darker.

I parked my truck on the curb just before I turned onto my street, making sure it could not be seen from my house at all. As soon as I turned the ignition off, the silence from the engine was almost deafening.

Enjoying the last few seconds of warmth before stepping outside, I sighed, then grabbed my bag and pulled up my hood. I closed the door of the truck as quietly as I could and walked towards the gloomy house with heavy shoulders.

With each step, my instincts screamed at me to stop and turn around; to run. And I wished that I could. But I also knew that things would get much worse than what could have been, so I kept walking.

In minutes that seemed to pass much too fast, I was trudging up the porch steps—almost tiptoeing—and slowly opened the door, stepping inside.

I listened for any sounds in the empty house, and caught the monotonous drift of the TV. Taking a deep breath, I headed upstairs for my bedroom.

Suddenly a strong, rough hand grabbed hold of my wrist from behind me, jerking me around.

"Where the hell have you been?" a harsh voice growled.

I kept my eyes down. "I just got back from school, Phil," I answered quietly, never meeting his bloodshot eyes.

He snorted mockingly. "School? What do you need school for if you have all your mother's precious fortune?"

My wrist started throbbing from his grasp. I pressed my lips together.

"There's no food in the fridge. Why don't you make good use of that money and get some food? Unless you want to starve. You know what that's like, don't you?" He smirked.

Then he used his grip on my arm as a leverage to throw me back hard against the wall. I exhaled sharply as my breath got knocked out of my lungs. My head spun, and I felt the blood flowing back to my right hand in pounding rhythm. I struggled to gain back control of my lungs and to inhale.

A pair of keys landed on the floor in a jangle next to me.

"Be back here in an hour. And don't you try to pull off any funny shit, either." He turned around and dragged himself towards the living room.

After a minute of catching my breath and slowly massaging my wrist, I grabbed the keys and headed outside, getting into Phil's old Saturn.

I drove to the town's only grocery store and inadequately filled the cart with a week's worth of food—I knew that it wouldn't be too long until the food would run out, and I wanted the chance to get out as often as possible.

Phil checked the credit card he usually kept in his car every week, making sure no suspicious payment was made; he made sure I knew that. The money that the card held was a small percentage—though it was definitely an ample amount to live off of for the rest of his life—of the money my mother left behind for him. The rest was put aside for me to inherit.

I knew that he kept his eyes on that inheritance. No one had access to that property except for me when I would become a legal adult next year. Just one more year until I could escape, be free. And Phil was aware of that.

I packed the groceries in the trunk of the car slowly, making sure my timing was right. I shuddered to imagine what my consequences could be if I got back a minute too late.

I kept the car's speed steady at 50, my eyes flickering to the clock on the dashboard every minute. The engine seemed too quiet compared to my homey truck, and it was almost eerie, making me even edgier.

When we moved here, I had a small collection of cash that I had saved up since I was in my middle school years, when my mother was still alive. The day after we settled in the small house here in Forks, I was grocery shopping, and in the store's parking lot was where I spotted the faded red truck, and the "For Sale" sign on its back window.

Its owner, a tall boy appearing to be maybe a year or two older than me, was getting inside the driver's seat with a single grocery bag in his hand. It might have been compulsion, an impulse, but the next thing I knew, I was rushing up to the truck and softly knocking on the window on the driver's side.

And it was then that I bought the truck with my own allowance. I kept it hidden from Phil, only able to guess what he would do if he found out. He believed that I walked to and from school, so my truck was parked around the corner, unrevealed to him.

When I walked through the front door with the groceries in my arms, I peeked in the living room to find Phil passed out on the couch, and I exhaled a sigh of relief. I put the food away and started dinner. Just as I was setting the plates on the small table, Phil appeared in the kitchen, and I automatically tensed.

But he merely took his plate of spaghetti and headed back for the TV.

It was the effect of his erratic moods—I never knew what to expect at what time. I guessed he had a minor case of bipolar disorder.

The rest of my evening was graciously quiet and uneventful. I finished my dinner, washed the dishes, did the little homework I had, and went to bed, not knowing what to expect for the next day.

_[2005, January 13 | Forks, WA]_

"Swan."

I stopped as I was about to open the door to my English class. Leaning against the wall again was Edward Cullen, crossing his arms.

I frowned in confusion. He was the only person around who would have said my name, though he was a couple yards away from me.

He smirked, gesturing with his head that he wanted to talk.

I warily walked towards him. "Um... hi," I said uncertainly.

"Not much of a talker, are you?" he said. "Kinda left me hanging there yesterday."

"I was in a hurry," I muttered. The familiar smell of weed was catching up to me now, and I took short breaths.

He chuckled. I looked around briefly to see that the school was clearing out, the students going to their first period classes.

He looked around, too. "What, you're worried about being late?"

I turned my head to another direction, annoyed. "What do you want?"

For a second, his face showed surprise at my directness. And then the cocky smile returned. "Just the conversation that you owe me from yesterday." He paused, reaching into his pocket as he lifted an eyebrow. "Did _you_ want something?"

I saw him finger out the corner of a plastic baggie, and as realization hit me, I stepped back. I glowered up at him, anger in my eyes. "No, thanks," I said coldly, and turned around to rush into my classroom.

_[Edward Cullen]_

I was aware of the short glances the teacher and some of the kids in the classroom sneaked at me. I couldn't blame them, to be honest. When was the last time I was in my seat _before_ the late bell rang?

I slouched forward and rested my cheek against my fist, watching my other hand trace random patterns on the smooth black tabletop. I didn't understand. What the hell did these people do before the bell rang?

And then the stool next to me scraped lightly against the floor. I kept my head down, but something from deep inside of me wanted to say something; to apologize from before. I frowned to myself. That wasn't like me at all.

I slumped forward even further, both my hands now running through my hair in annoyance. _Why_ was I even here? I could have been outside getting wasted; the idea seemed that much more appealing than sitting here like an idiot. The guys were right. I internally kicked myself for not listening to them.

Finally, the second bell rang, and I slowly lifted my head in time to see Mr. Banner already starting on his lecture. I stretched my arms out in front of me, inconspicuously stealing a glance at the girl sitting next to me.

She was doodling on the edge of her notebook with a blue pen, occasionally looking up at the teacher and then taking notes. She held her pen delicately, lightly, and repeatedly massaged her wrist. Sometimes she tucked her long hair behind her ear—

I blinked fiercely and turned my head back, squeezing my eyes shut. What the fuck was happening to me? This is stupid, I thought. I never even had a decent fucking conversation with this girl. I rubbed my temples in circular motions until it hurt, trying to clear my mind altogether.

"You know, I think I'm starting to believe in karma."

My eyes flashed open, and I realized that everyone was looking into microscopes. I turned my head by a degree to look at the girl again.

"What?" I said in a flat voice.

She peeked into the microscope on the middle of our table—turned more over to her side—and jotted something down on a worksheet before rubbing her wrist again.

"'What goes around comes around.' That kind of thing." She looked into the microscope again.

"I don't even know—"

"I'm talking about your stupid headache," she quietly snapped.

Sitting up, I stared at her through narrowed eyes, still not knowing what she was getting at. "Karma?" I repeated. "I didn't smoke since this morning, just so you know."

"That's great; you want a gold star?"

I cocked an eyebrow. "No. I want to know why you hate me." It sounded gay, but whatever.

Her eyes rolled. "I don't hate you."

"Yeah, well you sure bitch around with me like you do."

She scowled at me. "I don't know you enough to hate you, 'kay?"

I stared at her, waiting for her to give me a straight answer. Standing up now, I leaned against the edge of the table. Half a minute passed until she sighed while scribbling another answer on the worksheet and then looked me in the face.

"You skip classes, do drugs, offer drugs to random people that you just met—and that's not the thing that ticks me off. It's the fact that you're so... cocky, and proud of all of it. And excuse me for saying this for my own benefit, but I can't stand the smell, either."

Then she turned back to the lab work. I continued to stare at her, befuddled, repeating the words in my head. Cocky? And what smell? I shook my head sharply and frowned.

"Fine, I'll do the rest," I said, reaching for the microscope.

She put a hand up to stop me before putting it back on the instrument to look into it. "No, forget it. Forget I ever said anything."

I huffed impatiently. "Trying to prove something to you here."

I caught her wrist to pull her hand away from the microscope—not exactly gently, but not roughly, either. And she grimaced, gasping sharply, and quickly withdrew her hand.

I froze for a second, a confused and startled expression on my face. Then something dawned on me.

With hard eyes, I glowered at her. "Let me see your arm."

"What?" She looked back at me nervously.

"Let me see your arm," I repeated, almost a growl.

"No." She turned away, suddenly intent on the lab.

Frustrated, I took her right upper arm and carefully but quickly pulled back her long sleeve to reveal purple marks around her wrist. Very familiar marks.

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**Okay, so I have already started the next chapter, and I will try my hardest to put it up as soon as I can. In the meantime, please take the time to leave a review; it will be my greatest motivation. Even a simple one will be amazing. Thank you!**


	3. Mechanic

**Hello again, everyone! Sorry if I kept anyone waiting! Here's the third chapter; Enjoy!**

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**_"He who has been bitten by a snake  
fears a piece of string."_**

**- Persian Proverb - **

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_[1995, December 29 | Chicago, IL]_

It was snowing. The angry flurry of the white flecks swayed in erratic directions with the wind. Even through the windows, the howling of the wind was turbulent. But it helped to drown out the noises from downstairs—helped; but not completely driven it out.

Even in my own little corner up in the attic, the uproar beneath me traveled through the walls and floors. I shut my eyes tight and pressed my palms against my ears. Still, I could not manage to block out the enraged rumbling voice, the helpless muffled cries, and the frequent slaps and strikes from flesh against flesh.

Tears slowly streamed down my cheeks as I whimpered quietly. I hugged my knees to my chest, rocking back and forth. It seemed as if it had been forever until the door to the attic opened.

The first thing I saw through my tears was a soft curtain of bronze—the same shade as mine. I blinked twice with fear in my wide eyes.

"Oh, Edward," my mother whispered.

I climbed onto my feet and dashed up to her, wrapping my arms around her neck as she lifted me up. She held me in her embrace tightly, and I buried my face in her hair.

"Shh, it's okay, baby," she murmured. "Don't cry. Everything will be okay."

In her arms, I felt warmth; protection from the cold. My tears stopped flowing and my sobs reduced to sniffles.

"Does it hurt, Mommy?" I asked quietly, stroking the purple marks decorating her arms.

She smiled softly, but her eyes were full of pain and anguish. "I'm fine, baby. Don't be scared."

"Why does Daddy hurt you?"

She stared into my eyes, minutes passing before she answered. "He's just not himself sometimes. Sometimes Daddy gets angry."

_[2005, January 13 | Forks, WA | Bella Swan]_

His face was paler than usual, and his eyes were wide and unfocused, seeing past my bruises. Horror was set in every aspect of his hard features.

"Let me go," I hissed anxiously.

He remained unmoving, speechless.

"Look, I don't know what you're thinking, but you're probably wrong anyway." I jerked my hand free, pulling my sleeve back down.

"What?" he asked furiously, breaking from his trance. "You're going to tell me that you did this to yourself, then?"

"This is none of your business."

"Goddamn right it isn't, but you can't honestly think that I'm so fucking stupid to believe that these aren't abuse marks."

"Why do you even care?" I retorted.

That stopped him short, and he looked down at me with an unfathomable expression.

"Is there a problem here, Mr. Cullen?" the teacher asked disapprovingly. He was suddenly standing beside our table with crossed arms, waiting for an answer.

The rest of the class was oblivious to our heated argument, still working on the lab. Edward didn't answer as if he hadn't heard the teacher's question, preoccupied. He was still staring at me.

"Everything's fine, Mr. Banner," I stammered, breaking away from Edward's empty eyes.

He frowned suspiciously. "I expect you to behave more respectably for our new student here, Edward."

He cleared his throat quietly and automatically answered, "Yes, Mr. Banner."

The teacher gave him one more warning look, then strolled away. As he did, Edward looked back down at me.

My heart beat faster as I fumbled around for an excuse, but I couldn't come up with anything. I pressed my lips together, and looked up into his eyes, pleading. "Just let it go," I whispered. "Please."

_[2005, January 16 | Forks, WA]_

"Yeah, I'll be right there," Phil grumbled into his phone.

I heard him grab his car keys and walk out the door. As soon as his car could no longer be heard, I quickly finished up the dishes and ran up to the coffee table by the couch, searching for his One-Eyed Pete's bar membership card.

It was gone, which meant that Phil wouldn't be back until past midnight tonight. He had never gone to the bar and come back before then.

With a feeling of elation, I grabbed a sweatshirt and my own keys from my school bag. I jogged out to my truck and headed down to the highway.

Ever since my ride home yesterday, my truck engine had been making odd noises. Of course, those small faults were guaranteed from an automobile so old. I had planned to make a trip to Port Angeles in search of a mechanic.

It took the truck almost an hour to reach the city with its limited speed. After looking around for a while, I found the only motor repair shop in town, Dowling's.

There were only a few cars in the small garage. The several employees looked up from their work at the sound of the roaring engine of my truck.

I hopped out and someone who I assumed to be another mechanic for the shop jogged forward to meet me. As he got closer, however, I recognized this boy from a week ago.

"Hey, you're the girl that bought my truck last week," the boy said with a wide grin. "Bella, right?"

I smiled back in response. "Oh, yeah, Jacob. Hi."

He took a glance at the truck. "Is there a problem with it?"

"I'm not sure." I shrugged with chagrin. "I was hoping someone here could tell me."

"I could take a look at it if you want. John over there charges a little too much for a regular check-up."

"Oh, I didn't realize you worked here."

"I don't," he replied. "I was just checking for car parts that he was going to toss out. Not much luck today." He made a face.

"Well, are you sure you want to do that? I mean, do you have time for it?" I asked hesitantly.

He scoffed and waved his hand. "Sure, it's no problem. But John wouldn't really like it if I did his work right in front of him, you know?"

I agreed, and after thanking John, Jacob led me to his own little garage next to his house in La Push. I found myself looking out the driver's window constantly to marvel at the beauty of the beach. Though sunlight was lacking, the grayness only added to the photograph-like scene.

I parked the truck right outside his shed, and he popped open the hood, professionally looking inside.

"So why were you looking for parts?" I asked.

"I'm rebuilding my Volkswagen. It's almost done; I just need a few more stuff."

"Really?" I raised my eyebrows in awe. "How old are you anyway, Jacob?"

He grimaced. "I'll turn eighteen in a couple months."

"Oh," I simply answered.

"So what's wrong with the truck?" he asked me.

"Um, the engine started making weird knocking noises since yesterday."

He nodded. "Okay. Can you try starting the motor?"

I opened the door to the driver's side and turned the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life, sounding even louder with the hood up. I walked around to stand next to Jacob again.

He had a screwdriver in his hand, holding the metal part against a part of the engine, and was leaning in to place his ear next to the handle of the screwdriver. He repeated the same thing twice on different parts of the engine.

Then he straightened up and gestured for me to turn the motor back off.

I did, then returned to the front of the truck.

"So, what is it?"

He talked while walking towards his shed-slash-garage, and I followed. "Well, what I was doing with the screwdriver was listening for where exactly the noise was coming from. I thought it was a bad hydraulic lifter; replacing that would've gotten pretty damn expensive. But lucky for you, it's from the valve cover, so I just gotta check the pulleys on it."

I just stared at him blankly. He laughed at my expression as he replaced the screwdriver and took out some other tools.

Jacob worked on the truck like a truly skilled mechanic. I merely handed him the tools that he asked for, and joined him with his cheerful chatter.

"Alright," he said, exhaling a deep breath. "Think it's done. Can you check the motor?"

Expectantly, I turned the engine over, and listened for the same knocking noise. But it was just the same deafening rumble as before, and a wide smile broke across my face as I turned it back off.

"Wow, Jacob, you fixed it!"

He shrugged, feigning a bored look on his face. "Eh, it was nothing."

I laughed. "Seriously, thank you," I said, sincerity saturating my voice. If my truck had had an expensive problem, I didn't know how I would have managed to pay it off. Still, I felt guilty about letting Jacob do all this without a price.

"Really, Bella, it was no problem at all. I do this for fun," he clarified, easily reading my expression.

"Well, I'd still feel better if I could pay you back somehow."

He thought for a few seconds, then grinned. "Stay here with me for a while and hang out. I could use some company while I work on my car."

I felt hesitant at his suggestion. Surely, I would get home before Phil would, and he would never know that I left the house. But if this between Jacob and myself became friendship, it would get much harder for me to hide everything, and I would need to make much more excuses—and I knew that I lacked any sort of ability to lie. I didn't always have the chance to get out of the house, so excuses would be necessary. He would soon get suspicious.

But in the little time I had with Jacob, he was more than just company. I already knew that if I allowed it, Jacob and I could be very good friends. He had a cheerful atmosphere around him, and I forgot about all my troubles, if only for a few minutes.

"Unless you need to get going," he quickly amended. "We could hang out some other time."

I considered my options, then replied, "No, it's fine." I smiled back. "This is my payment, after all."

His wide smile spread from ear to ear. I realized just now that when Jacob smiled, he seemed slightly younger than his age—young and innocent. It added to his sunny personality.

Almost immediately, he started prattling as we walked to the garage, and we joked back and forth while he worked on his Volkswagen and I watched.

To my surprise, I enjoyed my time with Jacob. So much so that it shocked me when I looked outside and it was dark already. I gasped, and jumped up.

"What? What is it?" Jacob asked in an alarmed voice.

I composed myself and laughed once. "Oh, it's just gotten really late. I should go now."

"Okay, let me walk you out." He wiped his blackened hands and stood up.

"What time is it?" I asked, trying to be casual about it. I knew it wasn't late, but it still made me anxious.

He glanced at a small clock on the wall. "Almost eight. Wow, time passed fast."

"Tell me about it."

Jacob started heading for the garage opening. "Okay, let's go."

Fervently agreeing, I walked quickly across the shed. I couldn't stop imagining what would be waiting for me at home. Due to my absent-minded distraction and urgency, I forgot about the tools that Jacob left on the ground, and my foot caught on something in my way.

"Whoa, Bella!" Jacob lurched towards me to try to stop my fall.

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**So, I want to thank all the readers who reviewed; you guys are amazing! And for those who faved but didn't review... shame! Haha, just kidding. But if you could leave a comment, I will love that. More reviews, faster updates!**


	4. Treatment

**Hi, everyone! I wanted to thank all of my readers, and an extra thank-you to all those who reviewed; you guys are the best! Here is the fourth chapter. I really enjoyed writing this one, and I think you will understand why once you read it. Enjoy!**

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**_"One's mind has a way of making  
itself up in the background,  
and it suddenly becomes clear  
what one means to do."_**

**- A.C. Benson - **

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"Jacob, I'm _honestly_ fine," I insisted. It started to sound like whining now. "Please don't make a big deal out of this." I took another deep breath from my mouth.

He looked over at me from the driver's seat with unease. "Bella, you're bleeding from your head and you could have a concussion. Plus, you look a little green."

I pressed the towel against my forehead harder, turning my face toward the open window. The cool wind helped to keep the nausea away.

As the Forks Hospital came into view, however, terror struck inside of me. What if they did a physical check? What was I supposed to say about my marks? Why was it so hard to keep a single secret ever since I had moved here?

"Jake—"

"Bella, I will haul you by force into that hospital if you make me," he interrupted strictly. Then, in a softer voice, he asked, "Why are you being difficult about this?"

I exhaled slowly, still not looking at him.

"It's okay, they won't do anything bad; they'll just give you a check-up to see if there's anything wrong. Trust me."

That was exactly what I feared.

Jacob parked his father's old rented Ford in the hospital parking lot near the entrance—he believed that my truck's speed limit was not fast enough to take me here. He patted me on the knee reassuringly. "Everything will be fine, okay?"

Defeated, I nodded once. He jumped out and helped me inside the building, sitting me down at the waiting chairs.

"She's bleeding from her head," he told a nurse at the front counter, pointing at me. The nurse took a quick glance at me, then checked her clipboard.

"If you will come with me, please," she gently told me. I stood up and swayed on my feet. Jacob caught me by the elbow and led me through the hallway, following the nurse. I had to lean on him, struggling to keep my balance.

The nurse took us to a white room with several beds. One was empty, and she gestured for me to lie down on it.

"The doctor will be with you shortly," she said, then walked out.

I exhaled deeply and closed my eyes.

"How are you feeling?" Jacob asked.

I opened my eyes. He had his hands shoved into his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. It almost looked as if he felt guilty.

"I'm fine, Jake. Really. You should be getting home."

He rolled his eyes. "That's stupid; I'm the reason we ended up here in the first place."

I frowned. "What?"

"It's my fault that I didn't pick up the tools from the floor. Sorry."

I laughed, and he looked at me with a confused expression. "Please, Jacob. My being a complete klutz has nothing to do with your littering skills."

He cracked a smile.

Just then, the doctor came into the room, and Jacob moved aside to the foot of my bed to give him room.

"Hello, young lady," the doctor pleasantly acknowledged while putting on a fresh pair of latex gloves. "Can I ask for your name?"

"Bella," I answered.

"Alright, Bella," he said. "Let's take a look at the damage."

I took a deep breath and held it while I removed the blood-drenched towel from my forehead. Jacob took it from me, and I mouthed, "Thanks."

"Sure. And I gotta go call my dad at home real quick," he told me. "Will you be okay?"

"Yeah, go." I waved him off. He strode over to a nurse and asked where the phone was, and then left the room.

The doctor tenderly wiped the raw skin on my forehead once with a sanitized cotton ball and I winced.

"Well, there's not much you need to worry about," he reassured me. "Give it a few days and it'll be perfectly fine." He grinned warmheartedly.

"Carlisle, you called?"

I did a double take when I saw Edward Cullen from my Biology class, walking in from the room entrance. He wore the same dull expression as he usually did—until he saw me. Then his eyes very slightly flickered with confusion, maybe even curiosity.

The doctor stood up as Edward approached us. "This is my son, Edward," he said to me. "He's helping out here, and he will be taking care of you today in my place. It was nice to meet you."

"You too," I replied awkwardly.

He gave me another smile before walking towards another bed where a patient whose head was fully bandaged lay.

I looked back in front of me, and then up at Edward's face. He had his arms crossed, an accusing glower on his face.

I instinctively scowled back. "What?"

"So what's the excuse this time?" he asked sarcastically.

"There's no excuse; just the truth—I tripped on an engine part and hit my head on a working bench."

His eyes narrowed as he processed that, and when he chuckled darkly without humor under his breath, I knew he didn't believe it. I clenched my jaw in response, annoyed.

He pulled up a stool by the bed and reached for a tray with different types of medical equipment and ointments. As he put on a pair of gloves just as his father did, I became fascinated. Drug-addict Edward Cullen was really trained in the medical field? To take care of people and treat their injuries?

It was like seeing a whole new person. His brows were sharply angled over his intense eyes, concentrating on the task his hands were busying themselves with, soaking a large-sized cotton ball with peroxide.

I was immersed in seeing this new character and became lost in his eyes as he looked up at my wound. The green seemed so much more bright today—maybe because the whites of his eyes weren't rimmed with red. I was so mesmerized that I didn't realize what he was going to do until I felt the burn on my skin.

"Ow—hell, that stings!" I snapped, abruptly recoiling away from his hand.

He immediately pulled his hand back as he frowned. "It's supposed to. Now stop bitching and stay still." Never mind about the new character, then.

He reached forward to clean the blood, but I angrily dodged his hand, turning my head the other direction. I glared at him.

Edward sighed heavily in irritation, withdrawing his hands back onto his lap. "_What_?"

"Would it kill you to be a little less rude?"

A corner of his lips twitched into a smile. "Maybe."

He brought his hand up towards my face again. And again, I leaned back out of his reach, crossing my arms.

"Just hold still," he growled, aiming for the wound once more, just as I ducked again.

Finally, in a fit of impatience, he hooked his hand around the back of my neck and almost yanked me —though in a way, carefully, somehow—forward, inches in front of his chest, locking me in place.

It surprised me, and as I was frozen, he took the chance to dab at the gash on my forehead.

"No need to be so stubborn," he muttered as he swabbed my cut.

Though it stung just like before, I didn't pull away. I caught a whiff of the scent coming from Edward's clothes, and it filled my head. But it wasn't the odor of a drug; it was almost heavenly. It took everything I had inside of me to keep myself from leaning forward even further.

After a few seconds, the coolness of the peroxide no longer burned as much. In fact, as he dabbed at the wound, it felt nice... and comforting. Even if it was from Edward Cullen's hand.

I cleared my throat quietly. "If I asked you something, would you answer honestly?"

He laughed softly; it seemed like an odd sound coming from him. "Depends on what you ask."

I shrugged my shoulders. "I'm just real curious."

After a moment of waiting for me to continue, he answered, "Fine."

I didn't know if he really would answer truthfully, but I asked anyway. "Why are you here?"

He automatically replied, "Because apparently some people trip on engines and get seriously hurt." I could detect the sarcastic smirk in his voice.

I shook my head. "What I meant was, why do you come here and help people, when at school, you're a completely different person? It kind of contradicts itself, don't you think?"

"I thought you didn't know me that well," he answered, quoting me from the last chat in Biology, a few days ago. His voice sounded like he wasn't paying much attention to the conversation.

"I see you around. You hang out with your _pals_, and I see what you do." Almost every day, I saw Edward and his acquaintances, lingering in the dark shadows around the school and getting high. As if the usual smell wasn't enough evidence. "Clearly, you're trying to put on a show, but which one is real and which one is the made-up pretense?"

His hand paused on my forehead, and he was silent for a while.

"You said you would answer," I prompted him.

He sighed as he released his hold on my neck. I straightened up, watching his reaction. He threw away the red-stained cotton ball and pulled out a new one, this time coating it with some kind of creamy ointment. He looked down at his hands as he began explaining.

"Carlisle is my adoptive father. He and his wife found me at an orphanage when I was almost twelve. About a year before that happened, the older kids at the home offered me a cig for the first time. I was too young then to understand that drugs and alcohol were what drove my father to hurt my mother—the reason I was there in the first place. So I took it under pressure—and then I didn't want to refuse anything after that.

"There was always something new, something better than whatever we did before. It felt good to be accepted by the older boys, while the weaker ones cowered in fear. When Carlisle came and saw me, he knew about my addiction problems, and still, he found the will to take me in.

"As you've seen just now, he's very... compassionate. Esme—my adoptive mother—is the same way. And so it made me feel guilty. I never show them enough consideration, the respect that they deserve. I can never bring up the courage to do that, so I accepted Carlisle's offer to help him in the hospital. I knew it was an attempt to get me more involved in society, but I didn't contribute much. Still, I always have that shamed feeling every time my parents give me so much more than I'm worth."

Edward realized that he had been using his index finger to smear the cream on the cotton the whole time. He reached up to dab it on my cut, and I stayed frozen.

This sudden rush of information about Edward and his past stunned me. And to think that he really did have some decency deep inside was disorienting. But what was hardest for me to grasp was the fact that he had just told me everything I had asked for, and much more. I did not expect any of it.

"Judging me some more?" he asked, referring to my silent musing.

"No," I mumbled, caught up in my thoughts.

"Well, I guess now you can understand why I'm so sensitive about this," he said, pointing to my forehead. "I've seen it all happen before my eyes, and it's not something I can just forget, even if it was years ago."

"It shouldn't be any of your concern," I disagreed. "It's not like you can do anything about it anyway."

"Hmm. Maybe that's why I'm here, doing what I'm doing." He frowned at his hands, now on his lap again. "And believe it or not, it _is_ my concern. I might be the only one who would understand, if only a little bit of what you're going through... Isabella."

I started a little when he addressed me by my name for the first time. I realized the only time he said my name was that first time he spoke to me, on my first day of school.

"Bella," I corrected him quietly.

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	5. Nothing Personal

**Yay for the fifth chapter _finally_! Sorry for the wait, everyone. Thank you for all the wonderful reviews, of course! **

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**_"We can be honest without saying what we mean to say;_  
_We can talk about the weather while ignoring the rain."_**

**- Danielle Donoho - **

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_[Edward Cullen]_

It surprised me that I had just poured out my past to this girl that I met only a few days ago—Bella, she said. Maybe it was the gushy atmosphere of the hospital. I felt entirely different, and it wasn't just because I didn't take anything for almost twenty-four hours now.

I felt... vulnerable. Exposed.

And yet, nothing seemed to be _wrong _about it. I felt like I had opened myself up to her so that she could judge me even further—but towards the part of me that was buried in there.

Even now, as I cleaned her cut, I did so gingerly—despite my suppressed disgust towards the one who marked it into her skin—as if she was easily breakable. In one way or another, no matter how much I could deny it, I knew I felt, in a way protective of her.

I didn't know if I was the only person she met who went through what she was going through now, but she was definitely the first one for me. Regardless of all those years that passed by, the memories still remained strong and unforgettable.

While I was absorbed in my train of thought, she remained silent, also. I wondered what she was thinking about; what she thought of me now. I tried not to care.

"Hey, Bella."

I dropped my hands from her forehead as she looked up.

"What happened?" she asked.

I turned to see a boy standing by the bed. He must have been from La Push. How did they come to know each other?

"Er, not much," he replied hesitantly. "Honestly not trying to be rude or anything, but how much longer do you think this is going to take?"

She looked at me for an answer.

Reluctantly, I said, "'Bout twenty minutes."

"Do you need to get home?" she asked him.

He looked sheepish as he answered. "I forgot my sister was coming home today. We need to pick her up from the airport...."

"Oh, you should go then."

"I can't do that; we came in my dad's car. How are you going to get home?" he asked rhetorically.

"It's okay, my house isn't that far..."

I scoffed under my breath. She was clearly used to giving herself up for others' sakes. It angered me even more.

"Edward will take her home," a perky voice said.

Three heads turned to look towards the speaker. I scowled furiously at my sister, who happened to be listening in. She was perched lightly on the edge of one of the beds, and she strode over with an overly cheerful grin.

"Um... I'm sorry, what?" Bella's expression was skeptical.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I'm Alice, Edward's sister." She reached over to pat Bella's knee.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and squeezed my eyes shut. "Alice, what the _hell_ are you doing?"

She smacked the back of my head with her hand. "Be a gentleman for once," she snapped.

I stared at her as if she was crazy. She turned to Bella. "Don't worry, Edward will drive you home. It's going to be raining, anyway. You'll catch something and be back here in a flash."

Bella's mouth partly hung open as she processed everything. She looked at me, and it seemed like she was judging me once more. Judging to see if she could trust me. I only frowned at my sister.

"If it's okay with you..." Bella said, noticeably feeling uncomfortable and awkward.

"Of course," Alice chimed in before I could react.

"Um." She looked back up at the boy. "I guess you need to get going."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

She half-smiled, half-grimaced, shrugging.

"Okay, I'll catch you later. Sorry about the, uh..." He pointed to his head and then to hers with an apologetic expression. Then he waved, turned around, and briskly walked out the door.

Bella sighed. I glared at Alice, and she stared back with wide, innocent eyes.

"Oh, I need to get back," she suddenly said. "Esme wanted help with her interior designing." She turned to Bella and lightly hugged her around the neck. "I'll see you at school, Bella. I'm glad to have met you today."

Her eyes popped open for the shortest second. "Uh, me too."

Then Alice skipped away and out of the room. We only stared at her retreating figure, speechless. I gritted my teeth. I needed to get faster reflexes.

But then again, even if I had the opportunity to, would I have let her walk home? And no doubt Alice would be right about the weather; she always was, somehow.

I sighed heavily. "That's Alice for you."

"She seemed... nice," she said with a small laugh.

I rolled my eyes as I squeezed out more ointment onto my middle finger and spread it across her cut slowly.

"By the way..." I murmured, "did you really trip and hit yourself in the head?" I remembered the boy named Jacob apologizing before he left.

"Yes," she said, sounding irritated toward herself. "My clumsiness tends to step in when I get preoccupied."

I chuckled. "Right, I remember."

"What?" Her tone was shocked and confused.

"Your first day of school. Newton wasn't very smooth with his move on you."

"What are you talking about?"

"Mike Newton. What, you think he ran into you accidentally?" I snorted. "Right."

She frowned. "That doesn't even make sense. Why would you say that?"

"Because he makes it pretty damn obvious. See, _you_ might not be as observant—what with your crippled lying expertise—but I've seen him, and I think I can quite truthfully say that he's not that great of an actor, either. Actually, same goes for some of the other guys that cling around you."

"That's ridiculous. And besides, I might admit that I'm not so observant, but it sure seems like you are." She looked at me suspiciously. "You got some peeve against them or something?"

"Never even talked to the dude."

"Then is there something else that's making you tell me all of this crap?"

"Nope; just the truth. And curiosity as to why."

"Well then quit prying," she snapped. "It's getting annoying."

I looked down as I tried to hide my amusement, and failed, as one side of my mouth pulled up into a smile. But it was true; I saw the way some boys acted around her. Ass kissers. It made me feel a little bit better that she didn't seem to be aware of it.

And it was also true that I was curious. What made them so attracted to the same girl? Maybe that's why I was "prying." To figure it out. I looked at her closely, without being conspicuous about it.

Under the almost sallow skin—from her past bruises, probably—there was a pink blush that never really left her skin. She had dark mahogany hair almost down to her waist. And her eyes were a deep brown shade, the color of rich chocolate, under her long eyelashes...

"What are you staring at?"

My brows furrowed as I blinked twice, looking away. "What? Nothing. I wasn't staring." What the hell was that?

I fumbled around for a couple pieces of cotton pad, keeping my eyes down. I cleared my throat once. "So, I've noticed something. And since I answered _honestly_ to that one question you asked, will you do the same for me?"

"It... depends," she said hesitantly.

"It's not too nosy."

"Okay."

"You tell me to mind my own business a lot. Why do you do that? I would understand everything you're going through, if not more. I mean, I know that you said you don't know me enough—" Hell, I kept bringing that up—"but... I dunno, I thought you might trust me a little bit more now..." I trailed off.

After a long silent moment, I began placing the cotton one by one onto her gash carefully. She then sighed quietly.

"It's not you, it's me. Nothing personal," she muttered.

I slowly taped the cotton pads to her head, pressing down softly. My silence was an invitation for her to go on.

"I just... don't like sharing my personal stuff," she stammered in a low voice. "Like I said, it's annoying."

I frowned down to meet her eyes reprovingly. "Honestly. Answer honestly."

"I am," she insisted weakly, staring back down at the floor.

"Be fair; I answered your question straight-out. You don't have to spill out your past. I just want to know why you always keep to yourself."

She stared at her feet for another moment, and then looked up into my eyes. I mean, _really_ looked. And I stared back, a bit dumbfounded. All of a sudden, I could see a dozen emotions playing in her eyes—doubt, fear, confusion... and the slightest bit of hope, to be able to trust.

"I was telling the truth when I said I don't like telling others about my life," she whispered. "I don't want sympathy from people I don't know. It's useless and unnecessary. No one needs to hear about any of it."

And that was all I needed to hear to confirm my suspicions. She didn't want to burden anyone, specifically _me_. She knew that I have been hurt in the same way she was now—physically and emotionally. And she didn't want to bring up memories of the past. Definitely suffering on her own as a sacrifice for anyone other than herself.

"And I'm sorry if you wanted to hear more, but that's all there is to say." No need to hear more. She might as well have spoken my conclusions out loud.

I finished covering up the cut on her forehead without another word, the both of us deep in our own thoughts.

As I put back the ointments and gauze and cotton back where they were before, she reached up to touch where I covered up her gash. "Thanks," she said softly.

I shrugged, pulling my gloves off. "Er, yeah. I guess that's what I'm here to do."

I cleared my throat and ran a hand through my hair. "Um... Wait here for a minute, will you? I just need to tell Carlisle I'm leaving."

"Yeah."

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We walked out in the drizzle in the parking lot towards my car. There was awkward silence and space between us. I scowled down as I shoved my hands into my pockets. It was a habitual reaction from awkwardness—especially the scowling.

I unlocked the doors with my key. "Get in."

In the car, I turned the heat on and lowered the blasting volume on the stereo until it was background music. "Seatbelt," I said with a hint of a smirk.

Minutes passed before she spoke, when we were on the highway. "Sorry you had to do this," she apologized.

I glanced at her with a confused expression. "Do what?"

"Drive me home." She looked out the window.

I gritted my teeth. Why did she always do that? The girl never thought about herself. "What then, I should have let you walk in the rain?" As Alice had predicted, it was now raining moderately hard.

She didn't answer the question. It was quiet for another moment.

"You know, I have to admit... You aren't exactly the guy I thought you were," she said. Her voice was low, seeming to be muffled by the darkness.

I worked to lighten my tone. "That's a good thing?"

"I would say so."

"Shouldn't be going around judging people you don't know." I threw a joking smile at her.

She laughed once. And then she sighed, her voice turning serious. "I can't really help it, though. You live this way and you can't ever trust anyone completely."

There was no pain in her voice; no emotion. She said it merely as an accepted fact. I remember when I felt exactly the same way. The world was a stranger, and you were left to fend for yourself. Trust someone, and eventually, the rug under you would be pulled away. Before you were aware of it, you'd be crumpled on the floor, trying to catch your breath.

And then I wanted to ask her. More than anything, I wanted to know. Was she really alone in this world? Would she prefer it that way?

Regardless, I just wanted to know what she really thought. My heart stuttered once as I opened my mouth.

"Do you trust _me_?" I asked in barely a murmur.

I watched her reaction from the corner of my eye. She bit her lower lip, staring down at her hands so that it was difficult for me to see her expression. She didn't reply.

I didn't know what I thought of this; what I should have thought of it. But it did bug me that she didn't answer. Then again, at least she didn't try to make me feel better yet _again_, and lie. A '_No'_ was better than that.

"Right," I whispered, maybe to myself. "You don't know me enough."

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**To my readers: thank you for the support you have given me so far. You give my heart the fuzzies! (: Review!**


	6. Unfamiliar

**Hi, everyone! Long time, no update—I am so sorry about that! My computer completely crashed a few weeks ago, so I had to rewrite the whole chapter. As a heads up, it's not very well written or planned, but the next one will be better, I promise you that.  
Also, I want to thank the reviewers for feedback; you guys are awesome! I just want to point out that I really do try to limit the swearing, but sometimes it is necessary to portray the personalities of the characters (Edward). Haha. So enjoy this one for the time being, and I will put the next chapter up as soon as I can!**

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_**". . . the fog is rising."**_

**- Emily Dickinson -**

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_[Bella Swan]_

I pointed out the house for Edward, and he pulled up to the driveway. I exhaled a deep sigh of relief as I noticed that Phil's car was not there yet.

He heard me.

"Yeah. Sorry I couldn't get you here sooner," he said. His apology surprised me; it sounded pretty sincere.

"No, um… Thanks. For everything." It was strange and awkward to be so formal to him, but what else could I do? I truly did feel grateful for what he did for me tonight.

He seemed to hear the honest gratitude in my voice, and felt the same awkwardness as I did. "Sure. Now get inside. I gotta get home." His voice sounded rough, almost distressed and pained. He cleared his throat.

I opened the door, and cold wind immediately rushed into the car. I shivered involuntarily.

"See you at school," I mumbled before stepping out.

"Bella," he called. It seemed like he was trying to get used to calling me by my name. I turned around to look at him through the opened door which I still held, the drizzling raindrops clinging onto my hair. "Don't take that off," he said sternly, pointing to the bandaging on my forehead. "I'll give you hell for that if I see if off tomorrow."

I slightly rolled my eyes but drew an X over the left side of my chest with my finger.

_[Edward Cullen]_

I watched her jog up the porch steps as she stole glances from everywhere around her, cautious of any sign that her protected abuser might suddenly appear. It reminded me of a mouse crawling out of its hole in a house with a pet cat. I might have laughed, but there was nothing humorous about this.

As soon as she went inside and shut the door, I started the engine and headed home.

I hated to let her walk back into that house. Even though her cut was, in fact, an accident, I've seen her marked skin and heard the somber tone in her voice when she tried to avoid the subject. I remembered the hopeless look in her eyes in the rare times where she talked quietly about things hidden deep inside.

And then somehow, I was thinking about myself, ten years ago. How I felt every time I watched my mother get hit by the crazed animal I could not call my father. The memories came back, swooning over me in a rush.

I took a deep breath and pressed my foot further down on the gas, struggling to keep my mind on the road only.

As I finally pulled up to the front of the house, I spotted Alice through the windows. The previous irritation I had towards my sister boiled up again, and my face automatically slipped into a scowl.

When I walked inside, Alice was sitting on the edge of the sofa, excitedly chattering to her audience. Her eyes were wide and she had on a smile too big for her petite face. Esme sat calmly, a sketchbook and pencil on her lap, and an expression that made her seem pleased about whatever Alice was talking about. My brother was slouching on the single armchair, cocking an eyebrow as he saw me walk in.

"Hey-ya, stud muffin." Emmett grinned, nodding at me.

Before embarrassment could overtake me, I turned to my sister with a furious grimace as I finally realized what they were talking about before I came home. "Dammit, Alice!"

"Edward," Esme said in a warning voice.

I crossed my arms and glared at Alice, waiting for an expression.

"Okay, okay, just wait a second here!" she said, throwing her hands up. "I didn't do anything wrong, so I'm not apologizing."

"You—"

"Hold it!" she interrupted. "Listen, I saw _everything_ going on between you two." She turned to Esme, the grin back on her face. "I don't think I've ever seen him like this, Esme! He was all… sensitive. And almost _nice_. How could I _not_ have done anything?" she asked rhetorically.

"By staying out of my problems," I grumbled.

"Problems," she scoffed. "Anyway, you'll be thanking me for it later. Just watch." And then she smiled her sweet-but-dangerous smile.

"I'm going upstairs," I muttered.

"Yeah, you need to pump some iron to impress 'em ladies, right, beefcake?" Emmett was clearly enjoying himself.

I flipped him one when I was sure Esme had her back to me.

I heard him hoot, saying, "This is gonna be fun."

It took me some effort to stay where I was, but I managed. I trudged up the stairs, gritting my teeth.

I went straight to take a hot shower; I felt weird inside, and I hoped that some steam would get rid of the feeling. It was probably the effects of a day like today—I needed to grasp what really happened. It was almost dreamlike; the beginning of the day seemed like such a long time ago.

As I walked back toward my room, I ran my hands through my wet hair, shaking the excess water off—which was probably why I didn't see the little figure waiting by the door, leaning against the wall as if she was waiting for me.

"Holy sh—" I jumped at the sight of Alice, alarm quickly turning into annoyance. "Alice, what the hell?"

"Geez, you really are sensitive today," she stated.

I rubbed my temples with one hand, shutting my eyes. "What is it _now?_"

"I want to talk to you about Bella." She walked into my room. I clenched my fists for a second before following her.

"There is nothing to talk about. She got a cut and I did my job."

"No, no, there's more," she said thoughtfully as she sat cross-legged on my leather sofa. "More than that. You talked."

"What, I can't talk to my patients?"

"I'm not saying you can't; just that you usually don't. And you were chatting away with her like I've never seen you do." She grinned, mostly to herself now. "And it wasn't just small talk. It was a deep conversation, I could tell. You_ like_ her." Her voice was awed.

"No, I do not _like_ her—that's so elementary; don't be so immature. I only met the girl a few days ago."

"Why are you being so defensive?"

"Because you're wrong."

She tilted her head. "I don't _think_ so. I mean, for one thing, you barely cussed since you came home, even when you're so obviously annoyed. That has nothing to do with this?"

"No," I growled.

"And you're denying everything that I'm saying right now—"

"Like I said, because you're wrong about everything."

"—_and_… I think you're _blushing_." She smiled a superior smile.

"Get the hell out of my room."

She jumped up and skipped to the door. "You might not completely realize it yet, but you'll see that I'm right." Then she disappeared without allowing me a chance to say anything back.

Definitely need to get faster reflexes.

I exhaled a loud sigh and threw myself on my bed, covering my face with my arm.

_I don't like her, I don't like her; I'm not in the fucking second grade._ I squeezed my eyes closed tighter. Thanks to Alice, now it would be impossible to get out of my head. Whatever this feeling was, it was _not _something I would call a crush. I cringed from even thinking of the word.

It was alien to me; the feeling and the experience. Plus, it only seemed to fit for those stupid preps at school who had nothing better to 'FML' about than lousy relationships that didn't work out.

No, I wouldn't call it a crush. But I did think that Bella was different. Different about the way she acted, the way she talked, the way she thought. And it affected me, too. She made _me_ feel and act different. And as much as I didn't want to admit it, Alice was right about one thing: I didn't say a swear word—not out loud, at least. I hadn't realized it until she pointed it out to me.

Maybe she was right about everything else too—rarely was she ever wrong about something, even up to the point where it got annoying.

But before I came to my conclusion, sleep finally took me away, and I welcomed it gladly.

_[Bella Swan | 2001, October 8 | Phoenix, AZ]_

She looked too pale—her face ashen and sallow. Even now, her brittle body shivered, though the room was not cold at all. I rubbed the hand that I held, hoping to comfort her. My hands also shook slightly, from having to hold back the sobs that were on the edge of erupting through my lips.

This was my best friend lying here—best friend all my life, the one who knew me the most in this world. I could not imagine my life without her; she was always there when I needed someone to run to.

"Hey, chin up," she breathed in a shaking whisper. Her white lips pulled up into a smile painful to look at.

"Are you scared?" I asked in the same voice as hers, lifting my head up to meet her eyes.

She shook her head by a fraction. "No, not really. I have been, but not anymore. 'We fear death, yet we long for slumber and beautiful dreams,'" she quoted. "Pretty, right?"

"Haven't heard of that one."

"I snatched it off a book," she admitted with a short laugh.

I rolled my eyes with great effort. "Of course you did."

Suddenly her hold on my hand tightened, and she shook more violently. My breath caught and my other hand reached out to touch her cheek to calm her.

Then she sighed. "Sorry. I'm freaking you out, aren't I?"

"Kind of," I whispered.

"I wish you didn't have to see me like this."

_What other choice did I have?_ I thought. "I don't care. I'm here."

She laughed again, this time more lighthearted. Her eyes sparkled for a second, gentle and aged. With a smile still on her lips, she breathed, "'L'esperienza de questa dolce vita.'"

Before I could ask her what she meant and why she was laughing, her eyes fluttered closed, and the smile receded to a faint uplift of her lips.

I froze, struggling to keep my breathing steady and bit on my quivering lip. Was it over so quickly? And without warning? No chance to say goodbye, or to promise each other that we would see each other again? Just one minute, she was joking; and now…

"Dream a nice dream, Mom," I mouthed near her unhearing ears.

And the tears spilled over.

_[2005, January 17 | Forks, WA]_

It suddenly occurred to me just now that I had to walk to school; my truck was still parked by Jacob's garage.

I sighed, putting on an extra sweatshirt, and snuck out of the house into the misty fog. If I walked quickly, then I would arrive at school in about forty minutes, just in time for English to begin.

But I took a few steps only to find a silver car parked behind Phil's old one. As I began to realize whose car it was, I panicked and hastily glanced once behind my shoulder before running up to the passenger seat, peeking at the driver through the window sliding down.

"What are you doing? You can't be here!" I whispered frantically, peering over my shoulder again.

"Get in, and I'll be out of here," Edward casually said. "You're letting the cold in."

It took two seconds for me to process his words correctly, and then I was climbing into his car, shutting the door as quietly as I could.

As soon as I got settled into my seat, he started the car and drove out into the highway.

When I caught my breath and completely understood my surroundings, I turned to look at him questioningly, maybe even suspiciously.

He felt my stare and answered with a question, "Where's your truck?"

"At Jacob's, in La Push," I replied hesitatingly. "Why?"

"How else are you going to get it back? I'm not going to drive you around all the time, you know."

"No one asked you to," I muttered, a reaction to his own attitude.

After another long pause, he asked, "So, er… did you get home okay yesterday?" It seemed like he was trying to make small talk; or maybe he was truly curious, or worried. How odd.

I frowned, confused. "Yeah. You saw me go inside, didn't you?"

"I wasn't talking about _before_ you went inside…" he trailed off. "Never mind."

I nodded, knowing what he was thinking. "He didn't get home until later. Nothing happened."

He didn't answer, but I could tell that the stress that was emanating from him was quickly evaporated after I gave him reassurance.

"I told you not to be concerned about me," I said.

He rolled his eyes. "Don't be stupid."

I exhaled sharply and crossed my arms. "I thought we went over this before."

"We did. You cleared up the fact that you didn't want to show-and-tell about your personal things. Fine. But whether or not I care about what happens to you isn't something you decide for me."

He looked straight ahead as he said this, and I wondered if what he had just said was something he really meant. But it shouldn't matter if he cared or not; and yet, it bothered me that I kept thinking about the last part of his reply.

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**Next chapter brings up a couple more new characters. Please review (even though this chapter was a little lame, haha). And sorry about the wait. Thank you everyone, for understanding!**


	7. Better Terms

**Hi, everyone. I know it took me way too long to post this chapter (hangs head in shame). My computer is still dead from its crash, so I had to use other computers. So I apologize to anyone if they were waiting for this chapter! Hope you enjoy!**

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**_"The game is afoot."  
_- Sir Arthur Connan Doyle, _Sherlock Holmes_ -**

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_[Edward Cullen__]_

"Edward."

I broke out of my musing and looked over to see my sister with a slight frown on her face. In the past, she had very clearly expressed her dislike for my "gang" with words that even I have rarely used.

"I need to take the Volvo. Esme promised me an early weekend."

"You're leaving right now?"

"Yeah. We only have one class left." She shrugged.

I sighed, but dug the keys out of my pocket. Jasper would lend me his Ducati—it wasn't something out of the ordinary when I would ask for his motorcycle.

She took the keys out of my hand and said "Thanks," leaving without a glance at anyone else.

Just as she headed for the parking lot, Jasper was walking towards us.

"Hey, why was your sister here?" he asked, watching her walk away.

"None of your business, Jasper." I rolled my eyes.

He raised his eyebrows. "What? She's hot."

"Seriously, man, that's just weird. That's my sister."

"_Adopted_ sister," he corrected.

"What the hell is the difference?"

He snickered, and I clenched my jaw, annoyed.

"Stop fighting." A hand touched my lower lip.

I turned my head away and pulled the hand down with my left—the one that wasn't wrapped around her waist. It felt awkward and wrong, but it was just there, mechanically. In fact, it never seemed to be like that until today that I noticed it.

Tanya narrowed her eyes, trying to look into mine. I avoided her stare and hooked my left thumb in my pocket.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.

"Nope."

She grinned playfully, wrapping her arms around my neck and pecked it with her lips. "What's the matter, babe?"

I stiffened involuntarily.

"Eddie?"

"Nothing," I replied quickly. "I, uh… I gotta go to class."

Her hands slid down my chest as I shrugged away from her hold.

"The bell didn't even ring yet," Jasper remarked suspiciously.

Before anyone else could say anything, the bell rang just then, and I exhaled in relief. I turned around and walked towards the school building before they could stop and question me any further.

Biology passed by slowly as I tried to avoid contact with Bella, too. If Alice was right about my 'liking' her—though I hated to think about it—then I would try to get rid of that feeling; more so that I didn't want to admit it to Bella myself and have her avoid me altogether.

When the last bell rang, I left the same way as I did after lunch, feeling Bella's curious eyes on my back. In the parking lot, I leaned against Jasper's silver motorcycle to wait for him.

A few minutes later, he caught me staring off into space, a frown on his face.

"What the fuck is up with you these days, man?" he asked.

I focused in on his face and Tanya's, both wary and suspicious.

"Nothing. Just tired," I lamely explained. "I need to borrow the Ducati. You mind?"

He sighed. "I… guess not. You got some blunt?"

"No, not today."

He scrutinized my face. "Okay, you really need to tell us why you're acting all different. It's bugging the shit out of us."

Tanya crossed her arms.

"Just because I don't have any weed, Jasper?" I angrily protested. "I'll bring some for you tomorrow or something, all right? Just hand me the keys."

"Goddamn it, Edward—how do you expect me to let you take the motorcycle if you won't even tell me shit anymore?" He scowled at me for a few seconds.

I nodded my head, flexing my jaw. "Fine. Whatever." I leaned away from his precious Ducati and started walking away. "Fuck this."

To be honest, I didn't know what I was doing as I turned my back on them. But I looked up at the dark clouds as it started to rain and realized that I would be walking. Maybe I could hitch a ride later when I reached the highway.

As I thought back on it, I remembered seeing Tanya standing there without a word. Everything she had to say, Jasper said already. I wondered when she would come up to me and slap me in the face, telling me that she never wants to see me again.

It didn't matter. I didn't care.

Only a few months ago did I think that she was the hottest girl in the school. One day she asked me if I had any booze, and then we flirted, hooked up, and were almost inseparable after that. Looking at things now, a lot has changed, especially ever since—

"Edward?"

I looked up to my left where I heard my name, and saw the red truck.

"What?" I grumbled.

"You, uh… You need a ride or something?" Bella asked.

"No." I continued walking. "I'll walk."

She stopped the truck. "I don't know why you're trying to ignore me again, but I won't ask. Just let me return the favor."

I scoffed. And then the sky flashed white for a second, followed by rumbling thunder. Damn.

I sighed, standing there for a second before I stepped into her truck.

"Fine," I muttered.

She laughed under her breath as she drove into the main street.

There was hardly any conversation between us for what seemed like a long time. I only told her the directions to the house, and she silently followed them. She kept to her word of not asking me anything. Maybe she was offended by my avoiding her, but only because she wasn't sure why.

I watched her expression to look for any sign of resentment or irritation, but her face was mostly blank. And then I caught the purple marks just under her jaw line.

My fists automatically curled into tight fists._ That_ was no accident.

"Edward? Where do I turn?"

I looked away, but not before she cupped a hand over the bruise defensively. "Where do I turn?" she repeated.

"You missed it."

She sighed. "Great."

As she turned a wide U-turn, I shut my eyes, attempting to calm myself.

"Don't let your curiosity choke you," she said mockingly.

"It's not curiosity, it's concern," I snapped. "And it's not something to joke about."

"Concern?" she echoed. "Is that why you haven't been talking to me this whole week?" Then she sighed again, shaking her head. "Never mind. I told myself I wouldn't bring it up."

"I wasn't avoiding talking to you just because I _wanted _to," I lashed out. I took a deep breath as I looked out the window, the words coming out in a rush. "It's just… If we became _friends_ or whatever then those marks on your skin would piss me off even more than it does now, not to mention how you tend to protect that son of a—" I stopped myself, pinching the bridge of my nose, squeezing my eyes closed.

"So you think that us being in good terms would only make you angrier?" she asked after a pause.

"Only the part where I feel completely helpless that I can't do anything about it, all because you act like there's nothing wrong. You won't let me help you."

She looked at me with a serious expression. "You _have_ helped me. What else were the treatment at the hospital and the rides when I needed them?"

"They weren't exactly all on my own decision."

"True, but… I think you would have done it anyway. It was wrong of me to judge you on my first day of school, but you are so different from the impression that you give."

I looked out the window. "Maybe I might have changed since I met you." Dammit, Alice.

"Changed?" Bella asked. "How?"

I sighed. "I dunno, Alice mentioned it and she could be right. I don't cuss as much and most of the time, I just _feel_ different. God, that sounds stupid."

She was silent for a while. "You swear less because of me?"

"Since you hated it when I did, I guess."

"Oh. It's just that I can't help but think of Phil when you do."

I made a low disgusted sound from my throat. There was another long pause as the truck laboriously wove through the windy road. The rain pounded down harder.

"I do want us to be on better terms, though," I murmured. "If Alice is right, I'm a better person around you."

"You said it would be hard for you," she replied.

"I know. But would it hurt to try?"

She shrugged. "You seem to have a hard time controlling yourself a lot. And I honestly don't want you getting protective over me." She looked at me as she said this, and it was difficult to keep my face straight.

I scowled. "I don't care. Don't you ever want something for _yourself_ other than for someone else?"

She lightly smiled without answering.

When Bella finally pulled up to the driveway, the rain had subsided to a drizzle.

"So… thanks for the ride."

"Sure. It would have been a nightmare to walk through all that."

I had to agree. "I can't deny that. I'm so tired these days." Before I stepped out, I felt the urge to ask, "Are we on better terms now?"

She laughed, a light blush coloring her cheeks. "A little bit better, I think."

I flashed a satisfied half-grin as I got out of the truck and waved once. Then I walked up to the house, suddenly more tired and fatigued, hearing the roaring of the engine fading away.

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**By the way, I want to suggest to my readers to listen to the song _Savior_ by Rise Against (or at least read the lyrics). There is a reason that its chorus is the short summary for this story. So yeah, I just wanted to get that out there.**

**Please review! (And I will try to get the next chapter up as soon as I can!)**


	8. Boundaries

**Hey everyone. I know it's been way too long since I posted a chapter, and I apologize greatly for that. I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

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_**"The fragrance always remains  
in the hand that gives the rose."**_

**- Heda Bejar -**

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_[Bella Swan]_

It was odd to think of Edward Cullen as someone besides the rebellious drug-addict I was used to. I didn't know what to make out of it; was he being serious about the whole conversation? It seemed like it, but I didn't want to jump too far into conclusions.

Suddenly, a black motorcycle sped by on my left side and slowed down in front of the truck.

I abruptly slammed on the brakes before the truck could crash into the bike. After a few seconds of shock, I took a deep breath and looked up. The motorcycle had turned around and was making its way towards me.

I took a closer look at the driver with squinted eyes. "Jacob?" I mouthed.

As he got closer, I knew without a doubt that this was the boy I talked to a few weeks ago. He wore the same bright smile on his face, flashing his white teeth.

He skidded to a stop next to the truck and I rolled the window down.

"Hey, Bella," he greeted me. "Your truck is too slow."

I raised my eyebrows, my hands still gripping the steering wheel. "Huh. Well, the brakes aren't, I'll tell you that."

He laughed. "Right, sorry about that."

I relaxed and smiled.

"Your head seems better now," he said, pointing at my forehead. "I don't even see a scar."

I shrugged. "It wasn't _that_ bad."

"Yes, it was," he insisted. "Oh, and sorry I had to leave you at the hospital like that before. I felt guilty the whole ride back home."

I shook my head. "It was fine, really." For a second, I remembered back to the car ride with Edward and how that was the day I began to see a change in him.

Jacob grinned smugly. "Really? So you heal fast?"

"I… guess you could say that." I laughed.

"That's good." He smiled, then gestured to his bike. "You want to go for a ride?"

"No," I automatically answered a little more alarm than I meant to. "I mean, I can't; I need to get home."

"You're not scared, are you?" he asked incredulously. "Just a short ride; you won't regret it."

I exhaled. "Jacob—"

"Come on, Bella. Live a little." He opened the door and held out a trusty hand.

I pursed my lips, looking at his hand hesitatingly. A few seconds passed, and then before I knew it, those last three words had me mirroring Jacob's smile.

He pulled me out of the truck and led me to his motorcycle, which looked more reckless as I got closer.

"Ah… Jacob, I don't know about this…" I stopped next to the bike.

"Bella, I promise, I won't let anything happen to you. Trust me." He looked at me for a while. "I'll go slow; how 'bout that?"

I sighed. "You'll do anything, won't you?"

He tugged at my hand, and I reluctantly followed, my legs slightly shaking.

Jacob mounted the bike first and looked at me, waiting.

"No helmet?" I asked nervously.

"Trust me." He smiled convincingly.

It took me a few seconds to muster up all the courage in me to swing my leg over the bike and awkwardly cling on to Jacob's waist.

I heard him chuckle as he sprang the motorbike to life. It roared and shook violently, threatening to throw me off. I tightened my grip on Jacob, my eyes growing wide.

Jacob threw me an amused grin over his shoulder, and then the bike was moving, starting out slow and then going faster and faster.

A strange sound came from my throat as I tried to keep my breathing steady.

Jacob patted my hand on his stomach. "Relax, Bella," he shouted over the engine.

And as we sped forward, a strange, unexpected feeling formed in the pit of my stomach. I thought it was fear, or nausea, but my lips spread out revealing a smile, and I finally recognized it: adrenaline. My eyes stung from the wind and my hair whipped my face wildly, but a small gasp of exhilaration escaped through my teeth.

Jacob heard this and pushed the bike even faster, erratically weaving left and right on the dirt road. Despite the wild swaying, I enjoyed it rather than getting queasy.

Before we met the end of the dirt road, Jacob turned the bike around sharply and headed back to where my truck waited. He slowed down until we stopped right next to it.

Once the bike's engine was cut, the silence was deafening.

"You okay back there?" Jacob asked, chortling as he smoothly dismounted. He looked at me with an I-told-you-so expression.

"It was… not as bad as I expected," I allowed, keeping my chin up.

Jacob shook his head with a smug grin. "Please, I can see right through you." He held his hand out and helped me down. "You _loved_ it."

I couldn't hide my smile or the flush on my cheeks as he confirmed his own statement.

_[Edward Cullen]_

I was walking up the porch steps when I spotted Alice heading towards the garage.

I stopped and frowned. "Alice?"

She turned around and frowned back. "Why are you home already?"

"What are you talking about? And aren't you supposed to be out with Esme?"

A too-innocent expression spread across her face. "Yes. I just decided not to go."

I waited for her explain further.

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, I may or may not have given you an excuse to ask Bella for a ride." She shrugged nonchalantly.

She waited as that sunk in, and then watched me close my eyes and flex my jaw, trying to control my temper. "I swear to God, Alice—"

"I answered your question, now answer mine. How come you're here so early?"

I stared above her head to maintain my control and attempted to reply calmly. "You got what you wanted—I got a ride from Bella. That's it."

Alice raised both hands to run through her short hair. "I don't believe this," she muttered.

"I'm going inside." I turned for the door.

"There's a guest for you, by the way." She did little to hide her disgruntled tone.

"Who?"

She sharply gestured towards the white Audi convertible parked in the shade that I somehow missed and then turned around, heading to the garage.

I stepped inside and paused. The visitor rose from the sofa in the foyer, and I furrowed my brows.

"Tanya. What are you doing here?"

"I just thought that maybe we could talk," she said quietly, fiddling with her hands as she walked forward. "Jasper told me not to come, but…" She stopped in front of me, hesitating the distance between us, and humorlessly breathed a small laugh, shrugging.

A few seconds passed until I said, "Okay, let's go outside." I held the door open and followed her out.

Tanya sat down on the porch steps, and I sat next to her. It was silent as we both waited for the other to say something.

"Edward, is there anything I should know?" she asked.

I turned my head to look at her gently, almost the look that I often gave her when we first started going out. I merely shook my head.

"You've been acting differently lately," she said as she looked down at her hands. "If it's me, you have to say something."

"It's not you," I insisted. I didn't know if I was lying or not.

Another second passed. She took my hand and weaved her fingers through mine. I stared at it as she put her head on my shoulder. "If there's anything you want to let out, babe, I'm here."

This was the sensitive side of Tanya that only I knew about, but I wasn't sure how to react to it anymore. It wasn't the right kind of comfort that it used to be.

She turned her head and lightly kissed my neck. Then she reached up to plant one on my lips softly. Slightly taken aback, I kissed her back once before my lips were still.

Tanya pulled back, sensing my hesitation.

"I'm sorry…" I murmured.

She pressed her lips together, glaring down at her feet. "Whatever this is, I don't like it. I want things to go back to the way they were, Edward. I miss you. Shit, if you won't talk about it with me, then do what you need to do to get over it, okay? Please."

I didn't answer.

She took a deep breath. "Maybe Jasper was right. I should go."

Tanya stood up and released my hand.

"Bye, Tanya," I said.

She gave me a wistful look before walking out to her car.

I watched her drive away, sitting there on the porch. I dug up a cigarette from my pocket and lit it, feeling a release that I haven't felt in a while. I don't know how long I sat there smoking, or what exactly I was thinking about, but by the time I went inside, the sun was barely resting above the mountains.

_[Bella Swan]_

"You should trust me more often," Jacob joked with a smirk. "Your life would get that much more interesting."

I laughed with him. "More like dangerous."

"Oh, come on."

"Well, I _really_ need to be getting home now. But I'll admit, I did have fun." I settled into my truck.

"Wait, hold on." Jacob leaned back and grabbed something from the bushes behind him. In his hand was a yellow wildflower. "Here ya go."

I felt my cheeks start to warm up as I guardedly accepted the flower. "Well, that was random," I muttered.

"It's a reminder for you the next time we do something 'dangerous'." He chuckled. "All you have to do is trust in me and you'll be fine."

"Jacob…" I held up the flower. "I don't know about this."

"It doesn't have to be a romantic thing if you don't want it to be, Bella." He shrugged, unaffected, still smiling. "Flowers can be platonic."

I didn't know what else to say; I was in a difficult position.

Before I could say anything else, the motorcycle roared to life, and nothing said would have been heard. Jacob waved good-bye with a grin before taking off, and I waved back maybe a second too late for him to see.

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**Thanks for reading! Please leave a review and I will put up the next chapter soon! (Promise.)**


	9. Uncertainties

**Hi, everyone! _Long_ time, I know, and I greatly apologize for that. But I stayed up all night to finish this chapter in time for Christmas—just for you. So Happy Christmas, and I will try my hardest to post up the next chapter ASAP though I say that all the time, haha. Hope you enjoy this one!**

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**"_Say what you know,  
do what you must,  
come what may."_**

**- Sonia Kovevsky - **

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I glanced sideways at the small flower sitting on the passenger seat. It taunted me and harassed me like an annoying child I could not seem to get my mind off of.

I shouldn't have taken it. I could have broken off our developing relationship right then and there with just one simple word. It was better for the both of us.

I liked feeling reckless, and the adrenaline racing inside me was indescribable. And being around Jacob made me forget about myself; I was a different, carefree person.

But as I parked on the curb away from my house, reality brought me down under with fear. Would Phil notice my tardiness?

I tried to be as silent as I could as I walked inside the house, until I tripped over my own feet and stumbled.

Phil sat up from the couch in the living room, and from the way his hair was flattened, I could tell he had been sleeping. He spotted me across the room, and I held my breath.

"Make something," he grumbled. "I'm hungry."

Then he settled back into the couch. I figured today was one of those days when he was content enough to watch a game on the TV without needing a dozen bottles of alcohol, and for that I was grateful. Only when he wasn't drunk was his attitude towards me exceptionally better—he ignored me.

So I gave him food, ate for myself, and slept peacefully for the night.

I expected the next day to be uneventful, as I woke up to find Phil gone again. Time passed slowly while I did house chores and homework in the morning, until I heard a loud, familiar growl of an engine outside.

From my reflexes, I perked up and half-ran to look out the window. Sure enough, Jacob was dismounting his motorcycle in front of my house and heading towards the front door.

I stopped what I was doing and rushed downstairs to open the door before he could knock, a surprised look on his face.

"Wow, that was fast," he commented with his usual huge smile.

"Jacob, you can't come here!" I almost whispered.

A puzzled expression clouded his face. "What's wrong?"

"Uhm," I struggled to look for an answer. "My stepdad—he's, uh, really sick. You shouldn't be here; you could catch the same thing he has."

It was clear by the look on his face that he was not convinced. "What about you, then?"

"I already had it before; I'm immune."

"I'm sure you are." He cocked an eyebrow. "Look, Bella, correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought you had fun yesterday."

"I did."

"Then what's the problem? It's a Saturday morning. Let's go out for a ride." He gestured behind him, where his motorcycle was parked against the curb.

The thought of yesterday's adventure brought back a small rush of excitement.

He saw my longing expression and I already knew, just as he did, that he won me over. With a big grin, he grabbed my hand and pulled me outside as I shut the door behind me.

Without hesitation this time, I hopped onto the bike behind Jake and locked my arms around his waist. Not a minute passed before we sped off in unimaginable speed.

This time, the adrenaline was different—not new, but still just as exhilarating as the first time I raced the wind. And once again, I forgot everything about myself. It was just me, Jacob, and the wind.

We rode into the same woods, riding along the dirt trail, until Jacob stopped the bike.

"Still back there?" he asked.

I laughed breathlessly. "Yes."

He looked back at me with a suspicious grin. "Your turn to drive."

"What? No—"

"Come on, Bells. Don't you get tired of saying 'no' all the time?" he said as he dismounted the bike, leaving me on the seat.

"Are you insane? I'm going to _crash_!"

"Nah, I don't believe that."

"Jake—"

"Hurry up and scoot up." He pushed me forward with his hand, and I grasped the handles for support.

"Jacob, I don't know what to do!" I hoarsely insisted, my eyes wide and my hands frozen.

He slid onto the bike behind me and leaned, pushing me further up. Then he put his hands over my hands. Suddenly this was becoming much too intimate for me.

"It's okay, just do what I do," he said, and he twisted the handle. He moved his hands more, starting the bike, but I couldn't think. My palms were getting sweaty, and I knew my hands would slip off the handles any minute.

Then as Jacob started the engine, the deafening roar interrupted my thoughts and left my mind blank. And the bike moved again, speeding forward with me in the front this time.

It was frightening to see everything as if it were being thrown at me, and the wind blew straight into my face without the protection of Jacob's back, forcing me to shut my eyes tightly.

"Okay, Bella, I'm letting go now," Jake said in my ear, and I felt his hands slowly loosen from mine.

My eyes flew open despite the stinging pain, and my grip on the handles tightened, making my knuckles turn white.

As soon as Jacob completely let go, the bike swerved, and I jerked the bike back to its straight path through instincts. And then I thought, _I can do this._ I smiled the same smile as when I first rode this bike. I was driving a motorcycle.

"Jake," I yelled. "Jake, I'm driving it!"

"You're doing great, Bella," he shouted back. "Just slow down a little."

I had to look down at my hands to grasp the lever, and I pulled on it too quickly, causing the bike to skid sideways. Frantically, I squeezed it tighter, not knowing what to do, until Jacob put his hands on both brakes.

The motorcycle spun a 180 on its side, flinging Jacob and me off.

I landed on the wet grass next to the dirt road, and I lay there on my stomach to catch my breath. Once I did, I realized how quiet it suddenly was.

"Jacob," I gasped.

I lurched up, instantly making me dizzy, but I leaned against a tree and looked around. "Jake?"

I heard a groan nearby, and moved toward it. On the other side of the road, I saw the motorcycle on its side, and a bit farther back, Jacob.

I ran to him as fast as I could without tripping from the vertigo. As I approached him, he propped himself up with his elbow and sat up with his back against a big rock.

"Oh my God, Jacob, are you okay?" I laid my hand on his shoulder above a gaping cut on his arm, where blood was trailing down before he interrupted me with a laugh. I turned my gaze to his face, where he grinned as always.

"Oh man, I bet you had the time of your life right there," he said, chuckling.

"Right." I scowled at him. "I am _not_ going to drive one of those ever again."

"Not until you learn to properly brake, you're not."

"Excuse me, but who was the one who forced me to drive without even teaching me how to 'properly brake'?"

He lifted his eyebrows. "If I hadn't forced you, then you never would have agreed to drive it."

"Very true," I allowed, "but if I hadn't driven then you wouldn't have your arm cut open, which I'm not sure that you are aware of right now."

He took a glance at his bleeding arm while I kept my eyes away from it.

"Oh." He turned his arm to take a better look. "Ugh, messy."

"We have to get you to the hospital," I said, ignoring him as he rolled his eyes.

_[Edward Cullen]_

I sat on the curb behind the hospital building, elbows on my knees, lit cigarette in one hand. It was rare for me to work here on a Saturday. In different cases, I would probably be out with Jasper and Tanya somewhere causing trouble.

I took a long drag on the smoke. It emptied my head for a while, until I heard a motorcycle engine. It took me a second to realize that the sound was much more different than Jasper's Ducati, but I still turned my head to look.

The passenger wasn't Jasper, but one of them was someone who looked familiar. I squinted to look closer, and before she went around into the hospital, I recognized her.

Bella was here again. What had happened to her this time?

I picked up my white coat and stood up, stepping on the cigarette. As I walked towards the entrance of the building, I started wondering who Bella was with. He also looked faintly familiar to me.

I walked inside the bright hospital, white coat still in hand. I looked around just in time to see Bella and the boy enter a room.

Calmly, I followed, and I casually leaned against the door frame just outside the room. A nurse was tending to the boy, not Bella, and this peaked my curiosity.

Bella was holding the boy's hand as he winced at the treatment. I looked at the boy more carefully, and finally recognized him.

At that moment, Bella caught my eye and said something to the boy before walking towards me. I stepped back away from the room and she approached me.

"I didn't expect to see you here again," she said.

I looked around. "I work here, remember?"

She smiled. "Oh, right." Then she scowled. "You shouldn't smoke at a hospital, though."

"I was outside."

"Hm."

"Who's that you came with?" I asked.

"Jacob. He cut his arm."

I tried hard not to sound as if I was prying. "Is he your friend?"

"Yes. Why?"

"I know him."

She frowned. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

I sighed. "You might not believe me."

Bella looked at the room Jacob was in and back at me. "What is it?"

"Look, it might not be my place to say this, but you shouldn't hang around with him. He's dangerous."

"You're one to talk," she muttered. Then in a clearer voice, she asked, "What do you mean, 'dangerous'?"

"He's part of the La Push gang."

"_Gang?_ Jacob? Where are you getting this?"

"I'm not making this up, if that's what you're getting at," I said angrily.

"Then tell me why I should believe what you're saying is true." She crossed her arms.

"Tell me first why I would lie about something like this. I'm only trying to warn you." I looked her in the eyes. "How long have you even known him for, Bella?"

It took her a second. "I've spent more time with him than I have with you. How much does that say?"

We stared at each other for a long time. Maybe none of this should have been my business. I couldn't try to protect her all the time; she had a point—we don't even know each other that well.

I exhaled. "I should get back to work." I put on my coat and turned to leave. "Just take care of yourself, all right?"

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed this one! Everyone have a Merry Christmas, and if I don't post before 2011, Happy New Year's! Please leave a review, thanks!**


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